


How It Goes

by Kidd_you_not



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bucky dealing with everyday life, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, a.k.a. the dark side of high school, a.k.a. the freezing cold, art class, art connoisseur Clint, art cretin Bucky, bucky trying to get better, clint being an adorable goof, it doesn't get more exciting than that, it's about a mandatory art project y'all, lucky the matchmaker, starring: autumn aesthetics, unbeta'd because I have no fandom friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 02:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21500470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kidd_you_not/pseuds/Kidd_you_not
Summary: It's Friday when Bucky decides he has to go out into the world and be independent again and Sunday when he actually manages to do so. It's not even anything fancy that causes it; just the need to finish a school project and Steve's inconvenient time management. It ends with Bucky going to a park, being almost run over by a dog and an amount of inappropriate flirting he absolutely isn't prepared for.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551463
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	How It Goes

-is what will define your final grade." Bucky jerked awake. Grade? The magic word? "I don't want some half-assed project landing on my desk, you get it? I want some real, honest, thoughtful work from you. Again, you have exactly two weeks. Good luck, see you on Friday." Apparently done, Hill shut her folder, turned off the projector, nodded at her class in goodbye and left the room. Normally, she would have been the last. Normally, there'd have been at least twenty people already packed and ready to speed out long before the official end. When Bucky turned his head, he realized why; A vast majority of his peers must have spent the second half of today's class in a similar state as him. Namely, asleep.

Confused murmurs rose. _Not the only one without a clue, then_ , he thought and relaxed. He stretched and yawned. If no one else knew what they were supposed to do, he could wait until Friday for them to figure it out.

Friday came, and Bucky had forgotten all about it. Whatever it was. Only when Hill hitched a smile (rare) and glanced at them, did he feel slight dread. "You got nine more days, as you know. That means you should at least be finished with the rough outline and maybe some of you have already started on taking pictures. Please remember that time management is essential if you want to succeed as adults." Bucky couldn't help the eye roll, it had become almost automatic. Steve, next to him, turned to look at him with wide eyes and hissed: "The hell? What project?" Bucky shrugged. Technically, he had been in charge of paying attention and taking notes because Steve had had to stay home because of the flu again, but well. Things had happened. He wasn't looking forward to the lecture, though. Besides, Steve was better at this stuff anyway. He'd find out what they were supposed to do in no time (damn his social skills) and then knock it out of the park. He probably wouldn't even need nine days, he'd be done tomorrow.

When the bell rang, signaling escape, Steve threw him a glare, huffed and turned to Wilson. Bucky yawned for the fourth time in ten minutes and tried to scratch his lower left butt cheek. No easy feat with only one arm. "Steve?" he tried.

"I'm not touching your ass, Buck."

"That's not what your mom-" He yelped when one of Sam's pens hit him in the forehead. _Fucking hell, the punk's getting better at projectiles._

Sam, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to laugh but would politely hold it in until Bucky had turned his back. Bucky bared his teeth at him. With one last stern look for good measure, Steve turned back to Wilson and continued their discussion. Whatever it was. Bucky had gotten quite good at immediately zoning out whenever Steve opened his mouth and what came out was in any way related to school. It just, it wasn't for him. Had never really been and now even less than when he'd started high school. As long as he showed up and bummed some notes from Steve, he just about managed to keep his grades moderately good, at least in most of his classes. Well, except when it came to chemistry. He must have accidentally flushed his potential for abstract models and equations that didn't make any sense down the toilet in freshman year; also, rooms in which inexperienced children handled fire and things that went boom weren't exactly his cup of tea.

He got up and gathered his stuff, not that there was much. He'd long given up on being artistic and got through with his personal motto: minimum effort. His therapist wasn't a fan and neither were Steve or his parents, but well. He _really_ couldn't make himself care.

Steve had finished his talk with Sam and was looking at Bucky, waiting for him to come out of his head. When he saw that his friend was present again, he grinned. "Ready for lunch?" Oh, praise the Lord. No lecture, at least for now. While they were walking through the hallway towards where their friends were outside, sitting under a tree, Steve filled him in on their assignment. "A photo album, Buck, it's not that hard. Take a few pictures, describe them and explain why we chose that specific scene, the angle and what it all means. I'll send you Sam's notes later."

"It's trees, Stevie. She wants us to go and take pictures of trees."

"Pretty trees, though. Most of the leaves should already be yellow and red by now. We just have to choose the prettiest. I think I'll head over to the park right after school, I won't have time later." He hesitated. "You have to walk your sisters home, right?" Bucky bit his lip. It wasn't that he couldn't go to the park, alone, it was that he really, really didn't want to. But he couldn't have Steve hold his hand until they were old and grey either.

"It's fine. I'll be okay." He stepped down the stairs and strode off in direction of their group. He could hear Steve hurry to catch up and bit his lip. A lump had formed in his throat and he could feel a slight tremble start in his hand in anticipation of... he didn't even really know what. But it would be fine. He'd used to do it all the time, back before... well, before. He avoided thinking about it at all times.

"Bucky...", the blond started and Bucky whirled around.

"Shut it. It's fine, it will be fine. Don't worry." He could see that Steve didn't believe him, could see his eyes check his tense shoulders, his clenched fist where he had stuffed it in his hoodie. "It's fine. Stop it. I can do it myself." And Steve relented.

It was only when he was walking home with his sisters, that he remembered the most obvious, easiest solution to his problem and took out his phone to type a message to his best friend. _I'm not giving you my photos and I didn't take enough for both of us. If we share them, Hill will notice._ _Just go tomorrow, you'll do great. Call me if you need anything,_ is what he got in return. With a fucking wink. Fuck. He'd missed his chance, now that Steve'd had time to think about it. Dammit.

It's Sunday when Bucky finally managed to drag himself outside. He'd done his homework, cleaned his room and called his therapist in hopes of building up enough good karma to get out of going to the park alone. Asking his family was out of the question; the only person Bucky could stand to be vulnerable in front of these days was Steve. He'd low-key hoped he could get his friend to join him Monday afternoon, but... he knew he needed to do this. Alone. By himself. It was just hard as fuck.

So, Bucky grabs Becca's camera (a bitch to use one-handed), bundled up in approximately eight layers of sweatshirts, hoodies and jackets to counter the sudden dip in temperature (what the fuck) and went outside. He kept away from as many busy streets as he could; the sudden sounds of honking and squealing tires had already triggered more than a few attacks in the past. He chose back-alleys, footpaths and lonely, narrow roads instead to navigate to his destination. It didn't keep the hyper-vigilance at bay completely, but it was enough to not leave him sweaty and wild-eyed when he arrived.

Bucky took in his surroundings warily. Only a few people were walking around or sitting on benches, all of them similarly decked out in scarves and hats. No one was having a picnic on the grass though, which wasn't surprising, considering the sorry state it was in. Normally, the park was be packed on the weekends, but many must have noped out of freezing their bits off after stepping outside and almost losing one toe or two.

Bucky turned away from the few people he could see and headed towards the seldom-used areas, where he could be absolutely alone and not feel like anyone was ogling the one-handed guy trying to operate a camera clearly meant to be handled with two. He forewent the paved paths in favour of absolutely ruining his boots trudging through the mud in direction of a small grove of colourful birch trees.

He didn't want to think about how many of his classmates might have used the exact same spot he'd chosen, but he figured if Hill had wanted some original ideas, she shouldn't have picked fucking _leaves_ as the subject matter. It was when he was fiddling with the camera and looking for a good place to start, that he spotted a guy in the distance and watched as he unhooked his dog from the leash and started strolling towards Bucky. Or rather, the grove he was standing in.

He had to swallow his disappointment; he'd kind of been looking forward to being alone and not having to be hyper conscious of another person's movement for a while. He turned back around, tenser than he had been a minute ago, raised his camera and tried to focus on getting the least shaky pictures he could manage. He hadn't even realised that he'd managed to successfully forget about the presence of another living being in his vicinity, when he heard the quiet, fast patter of feet getting closer.

Before he could even tense up again, Bucky was almost bowled off his feet while simultaneously hearing a horrified "Lucky!" that he didn't currently have the capacity to process. With his heart in his throat he whipped around and realised that there was a stubborn weight on his right foot, that refused to be dislodged. He glanced down and blinked. His shoulders slumped.

It was a dog. A fucking dog. A grinning, one-eyed yellow mix that had almost given him a heart attack just a few seconds prior. He looked up again when he heard a voice. "Jesus, that was ridiculous! He just took off one second and completely ignored me!" The guy Bucky had seen earlier, the owner of his new furry friend came to a stop right in front of them, leaned over to rest his hands on his knees and panted at the ground. Bucky blinked again, noticed he'd automatically shoved his hand into the dog's scruff and took the other in. Blond hair, threadbare jeans and an entirely too thin looking hoodie. Also, when the other (obviously trying to suppress a good laugh) straightened, tall as fuck. Jesus. Wherever that guy came from, they must breed them big.

When he looked down at his hand on the animal, which was now panting happily with his tongue lolling out, he groaned. He'd dropped the camera. The guy winced when he saw Bucky pick it up. "God, I'm sorry. Is it still okay?" Bucky shoved it into his hoodie pocket, wishing he could still cross his arms over his chest, hunched his shoulders and grunted: "It's fine." He tried to go easy on the scowl, but it had become his first response to... pretty much everything.

Unfazed, the blond grinned. "Great. I'm Clint, by the way." _At least he didn't try to get a handshake_ , he thought and replied, "I'm Bucky." The dog seemed to have given up on sitting on him, begging for attention and jumped up to go chase a leaf or something. Clint laughed, watching him go, and Bucky felt his stomach swoop. _Oh shit_.

Still grinning, Clint turned back and said, "That's Lucky, by the way. He's a good boy."

Bucky relaxed a little. "Of course he is," he mumbled. Clint eyed his pocket.

"Are you a photographer or something?"

Bucky snorted. "Do I look that fucking old?" Clint laughed.

"Well, no, but high schoolers can have side jobs too, you know."

"I guess." He shrugged. "It's for a school project. Nothing too exciting."

"Urgh," the blond pulled a face, "hated those. I graduated last year, so miss me with that shit." Now Bucky had to grin a little.

"I feel you. I only took that class so I could drop PE, anyway."

Clint laughed again and Bucky couldn't stop the sound from warming his insides. Apropos. "Aren't you fucking cold? I'm wearing three sweatshirts and you're standing here with one hoodie. _One_."

The other coloured a little and shrugged. "I don't really feel the cold anymore."

"Sounds depressing. Most people wear scarves and hats this time of the year, you know. Humans like to feel warm, go figure."

Another grin. "If you say so. Can't help but notice that you're not wearing either."

"I have enough hair to keep my ears from falling off."

Bucky could almost feel him trail his eyes over it. "Yeah, you do." Clint mumbled, the corners of his mouth hitched up and his eyes crinkled a little. Oh shit. Oh, _shit_ , he was flirting. He was, right? In 0.5 seconds flat, Bucky could feel his face heat up. He turned away, looked down and fumbled out the camera. Maybe Clint would mistake the flush as coming from the chilly air. Yes, that would be great. Hadn't the guy seen his freaking arm? Or the lack thereof? Jesus, he couldn't deal with this. "Gotta get back to taking pictures." he grunted.

It was quite behind him, for a few seconds. Then, a little hesitantly: "So, your project is trees?" Despite himself, Bucky had to snort and smile, again.

"It's leaves, actually." Still, he was looking down at his camera, absentmindedly trying to brush some dirt off the lens. Another pause.

"That sounds very interesting."

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. When he turned back to Clint, the guy had a small, pleased smile on his lips. "Shut up, that's bullshit."

Faux offended, Clint drew himself up. "How dare you! That's art, you heathen!" He took a step back and added a gasp, for good measure. It set Bucky off again, who didn't even take a second to think about how many times he'd laughed like that in the last month. On a roll, Clint bent down, grabbed a bunch of soggy, brown leaves and shoved them in Bucky's face, who sputtered, jumped away and laughed even harder.

"Look how beautiful they are!" Clint yelled, feigning indignation. "How dare you! Look at those curves, the colour! How can you look me in the eye and besmirch my one true love!"

"Stop!" Bucky gasped. "Stop, I can't. You win, they are masterful, true beauty." He looked up at a grinning Clint. "Just don't take them home or shove them in weird places or something."

Now it was the other who spluttered and pulled a face. He mumbled, "Urgh", and threw the disgusting sack of dead leaves and dirt away as if it had shit in his shoes. Still catching his breath, Bucky kept himself from giggling again and watched Clint cackle and shove his hands back into his hoodie. Trying to be the voice of reason, he eventually straightened, shook his head and mumbled: "Unbelievable", while giving Clint a stern frown only marred by his still stubbornly smiling mouth. His terrifying persona must have up and left when he'd first come into contact with an adorable dog and his equally as adorable owner. _Get a fucking grip, Barnes_ , he thought to himself. _Dropping your panties here and now can't be any comfortable_.

He stilled. Apropos, dog. After a quick second of looking around, in which Clint was still trying to get the muck off his hand, Bucky spotted Lucky desecrating a tree right behind the blond. He put on the most concerned look he could come up with, looked Clint right in the eye and asked: "Hey man, where's your dog?" The sight he got in return was a thing of beauty. Clint's eyes widened, his face lost all colour and his head frantically whipped around (are those hearing aids?) to find his supposedly missing pet. He found him after he did a little pirouette (Bucky almost chortled, but managed to keep it in), pressed his hand to his heart and turned back. "Don't fucking do that, I think I peed a little." He took a big breath. Bucky burst out laughing again. His sides started to hurt.

"So, what do you have to do?" Clint asked after they had calmed down a little. "Just take pictures?" He actually sounded a little curious.

"Nah, man, we have to analyse and describe and shit. I really don't have an eye for beauty, you know?"

"Nah, I don't believe that." When Bucky looked over at him, he was smirking a little and yeah, maybe Clint wasn't wrong after all. In an effort to keep his cheeks from colouring again, he raised the camera and tried to take a few decent photos of a thick birch tree with low hanging, bright orange leaves. He cursed when all he got was a blurry, lopsided mess.

While deleting the worst, Bucky mumbled, "My friend is really good at this. He could turn a trashed frat party into an art project and win a fucking prize, but all I'd see is a room filled with garbage and questionable fluids." He raised the cam again.

"I hear you," Clint said and Bucky could hear him moving behind him. _Relax_ , he told himself and kept from shifting uneasily. Clint was on his left side now. "There are a lot of things I like to look at, but trash and leaves are none of them. I'm only really good at seeing the obvious." Before he'd even finished, Clint's hand came up, grabbed the left side of the camera and kept it steady just as Bucky was about to press the button. He continued: "No idea why people can't make their art a little more straightforward. I don't want your 'subtle hints of' bullshit, I want a graffiti decapitating the president or something."

He drew his hand away again when Bucky lowered the cam, having successfully taken a few pics. He stared. The hell? Clint looked back.

"What is it?" he asked confusedly. Bucky raised the camera in answer. "Oh, I thought you could use a hand," Clint said with the most smugly satisfied smirk Bucky had ever seen, and he used to like looking in the mirror. But when he didn't answer immediately, Clint's grin tilted a little into uncertainty.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't-"

"It's fine." Bucky interrupted. "I was just surprised." Which was one way of saying it. His heart was skipping beats left and right and there were butterflies in his stomach. Fucking hell. He was not supposed to react like that to a stupid pun and a little decency, he was pretty sure. Now it was awkward. _Shit_. What to do, what to do?

Bucky put on the most haughty look he could muster himself and said, "I was just trying to figure out how to say 'nice pun, asshole' in sign language." Clint gave a relieved laugh.

He grinned at Bucky, leaned closer and lowered his voice. Bucky felt himself lean in a little. His heart pounded. "Good luck figuring it out," Clint smirked, "'cause I sure as hell don't speak sign language." He laughed again and straightened. Bucky joined him as soon as he felt he'd gotten a little of his breath back. _This is gonna be a fucking problem_ , he thought, _no way crushing on the hot stranger I met at the park is gonna do anything but suck monkey balls_.

Lucky, meanwhile, had found his way back to them and was now sniffing at Bucky's shoes. He crouched down and pushed his hand back into the dog's thick fur. He got him an absentminded lick in return. When he looked up again, Clint was smiling down at them and said, "He likes you."

Bucky only grunted in return and kept petting the panting dog in front of him. _Time for a sitrep with me, myself and I_. Despite the paranoia and his inability to relax around people he didn't know, Bucky liked Clint. He was pretty sure Clint was flirting. He wanted to return it. He fucking _couldn't_. He was too nervous, too tense. But he wanted to at least try, even if rejection was a possibility. Even if it hurt his confidence even more. Goddamn, Bucky wished he'd met Clint before. Before he was this mess, back when he was smooth and charming and confident. But maybe... maybe Clint would understand and let Bucky down gently. Maybe he wouldn't let him down at all?

Still staring down at Lucky, who now had his head on Bucky's thigh and was looking up at him with soft brown eyes, he took a deep breath. He looked up at Clint and noticed him watching them with a small smile and a bit of colour on his cheeks. Their eyes met. Bucky brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ears and licked his lips, just to see if-

Yep, Clint had followed both movements and was blushing again. _Not bad at all, Barnes_. Now, with a little more confidence, he cocked his head and smiled up at the blond. "Hey, are you here a lot?" Not the most original come on. Also, bad fucking strategy. Bucky didn't want to have to walk to the park alone more often than once a year, even if it was to meet a new crush.

Clint's eyes focused back on his ( _huh_ ) and he mumbled, "Yeah, with Lucky. You?"

"Not really," Bucky shrugged, "not a fan of wide, open spaces." He prayed opening up like that wasn't going to make things awkward. It was surprisingly easy. Lucky, meanwhile, had grown tired with Bucky's half-hearted pets and flopped onto his back and was now whiningly demanding belly rubs. Bucky complied without conscious thought.

Clint only snorted, though. "Yeah, I get that. I'm not a fan of narrow spaced, myself." He looked at Bucky hesitantly, then beamed. "Wanna work on that?"

A few seconds went by, then something clicked and Bucky choked. He was pretty sure that had been innuendo. The guy wasn't fucking around, that was clear. _Jesus Christ_. "Did you just-?" He stopped, looking at Clint incredulously.

The other winced. "Too much? I'm sorry, I'm not good at this. I swear, I normally keep the sexual innuendo in until at least the second date."

The words 'date' and 'sexual innuendo' were swirling around Bucky's head. Well, at least he didn't have to be worried about whether or not Clint would let him down anymore. "A date, huh?" he grinned and stood up. Clint's face had a distinct red tinge by now. _Not bad, Barnes, not bad at all_. 

"I mean, if you wanna," Clint mumbled. This was getting a little ridiculous. Bucky took a stealing breath and squared his shoulders a little.

"Hey, can I have your number?" Clint sighed and Bucky didn't think he'd imagined the whispered 'Thank god'.

**Author's Note:**

> Looks, like you made it to the end, congrats. I'm hilariously bad at writing summaries, so kudos to you for landing here, I guess. If you wanna, you can find me on [ tumblr ](https://kidd-you-not.tumblr.com/). It's still pretty empty, but hopefully, that will change soon.  
> 


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